Tags and Missing Scenes
by Deana
Summary: As stated, new tags and missing scenes to all three seasons!
1. S1E1: Friends and Enemies

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Tag to S1E1

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"Adele! Adele!" Aramis stared up at the second-floor window, hoping that she would appear, but she didn't. Why did he expect her to? The servant said that she was gone.

Aramis looked down at the pistol in his hand. It had clearly been fired, hence the reason for his sudden panic. Who had fired it, and why? Aramis stuck it in his belt and went back to the door, quickly knocking.

The same servant opened it. "Yes?" she said.

"Did Adele hand this to you herself?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It was left on her dresser with a note on it to give to you when next you came calling."

"Did you hear anyone fire it?" Aramis asked.

"Fire it? No."

Aramis sighed. What did it mean? "Did you see her leave?"

"Yes, with the cardinal."

Aramis was relieved at that…Adele couldn't have been involved in its firing then. He had no idea that Richelieu'd had it snuck back in hours later.

"Anything else, monsieur?"

Aramis looked at the girl again and shook his head. "No, thank you."

She nodded and shut the door, and Aramis stood there for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Adele had left. _She chose him over me. She chose Richelieu._

Aramis barely realized that he'd started walking again until he was far away from her door. When it really, truly hit him, he found himself sinking down to sit on the steps of a bakery.

 _Adele left. She chose Richelieu. But I love her! I thought that she loved_ _me_ _!_

"Aramis?"

Porthos was suddenly crouched in front of him, shaking him by the arms. Aramis realized that he'd called his name more than once.

"She's gone," Aramis told him.

"What?" Porthos asked.

"Adele left Paris with the cardinal." He sounded dazed.

Porthos sighed, before wondering how long his friend had been sitting there. "Of course she did, Aramis. She used you all this time and then ultimately chose money."

Aramis gave him a crestfallen look. "But I love her."

"Loved," Porthos said. He pulled his friend to his feet and wrapped an arm around his back as he led him towards the garrison. "You foolishly _loved_ the woman who belonged to the cardinal, but now it's over and it's time to move on."

Aramis said nothing.

Porthos felt sorry for him but was glad that he was finally free from the danger of cavorting with Adele right under Richelieu's nose. He gave Aramis a squeeze, hoping that his friend would find love with an average peasant now and stay away from untouchable women in the future.

THE END


	2. S1E2: Sleight of Hand

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Tag to S1E2

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The three musketeers and their protégé slowly rode into the garrison, tired and aching. After dismounting from their horses, they wearily sat at the outside table, grateful that Vadim was dead and d'Artagnan had succeeded in his first mission.

Aramis immediately turned to d'Artagnan and started patting at his jacket.

"What are you doing?" d'Artagnan asked.

"You were blown up," Aramis said. "I'm checking for injuries."

" _You_ were blown up too," d'Artagnan said. "All three of you were. I'm fine."

Aramis gave him a long-suffering glare.

Porthos snorted. "Nah, we were blown _down,_ Aramis was the only one blown _up_."

D'Artagnan shot him a puzzled glance.

"Athos and I were standing at floor level. Aramis was on the steps," Porthos said. "The two of us were blown over to land on the floor, but the blast threw him back to the top of the stairs!"

D'Artagnan's eyes shot up and he looked at Aramis. "You should be checking _yourself_ for injuries!"

Aramis winced at that. "I don't have to check, I already know what's there!"

Captain Treville came out then and they gave him their report before finally tending their injuries. The cut on D'Artagnan's head wasn't serious, and they all had assorted bumps and bruises, which was far less than it could've been.

After they ate supper, none of them had enough energy to stand from the table, as their aching bodies were quickly stiffening up.

"Oh _no_ ," d'Artagnan suddenly said, as they sat there.

Three sets of eyes swiveled to him.

"How am I supposed to go back to the Bonacieux house tonight?" d'Artagnan asked. "He thinks I'm a traitor."

The other three looked at each other before Aramis laboriously pushed himself to his feet, wincing along the way. "We'll come with you and explain it all."

Athos and Porthos also stood and started heading for the stable.

D'Artagnan rose and followed. "You don't have to do that," he said.

"Yes we do," said Aramis, slowly limping along. "You helped the musketeers, so now the musketeers will help _you_."

They were successful in convincing Monsieur Bonacieux of the truth, and d'Artagnan climbed the steps to his rented room; looking out the window halfway up and seeing his three friends stiffly mount their horses and slowly ride back towards the garrison.

As if sensing that they were being watched, Aramis turned and looked at the window, giving him a wave.

D'Artagnan chuckled and waved back before heading up the rest of the steps, eagerly wondering what their next mission would be.

THE END


	3. S1E3: Commodities

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Tag to S1E3

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Aramis and Porthos walked away from the tavern after tricking Bonnaire onto the Spanish ship, watching as it sailed into the distance.

"Good riddance," Porthos said.

"I don't know," said Aramis, with a theatrical sigh. "I think I'll miss him."

Porthos looked at him in shock.

"Well you have to admit that he was funny," Aramis said.

Porthos opened his mouth to disagree, before thinking for a moment. "Yeah, I guess he was. He called me an 'autodidact'."

Aramis looked at him. "A what?"

"Said it means 'a self-taught man'," Porthos answered. "At first I thought it was some kind of curse word." He chuckled.

Aramis smiled, and they watched in silence as the ship faded away.

"And that's the end of Emile Bonnaire," said Aramis, turning to leave. "Think we'll ever see him again?"

Porthos shook his head as he walked. "Nah."

THE END


	4. S1E4: The Good Soldier

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Tag for S1E4

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Aramis hadn't noticed when his three friends had arrived at the musketeer graveyard, but he quietly let them lead him away from it. He wasn't surprised when they ushered him to his room, but when Porthos reached over and plucked the hat off his head and reached for the tie on his cloak, Aramis suddenly grew angry.

"I needed your help yesterday and this morning!" he hissed.

Porthos pulled his hands away. "I know," he meekly said.

Athos was silent, and d'Artagnan looked like he had no idea what to do.

"We're supposed to be brothers," Aramis said. "I needed to know the truth of what happened in Savoy, but your loyalty to the captain was so blind that you left me to find out alone!" He ran a hand through his dripping hair and turned around, walking a few steps before turning back. "And Marsac was right! Even though the circumstances weren't quite what we thought, he was right!"

Porthos opened his mouth to speak, but Athos squeezed his arm, to stop him.

"And then..." Aramis said. His breath hitched and he almost couldn't say the rest. "I killed him. He was my closest friend for _years_ before you, and I killed him!"

The others waited, but Aramis said no more, obviously fighting to compose himself.

"He gave you no choice," Athos said.

"You saved the captain," Porthos told him.

"The two of you alone know went I went through after Savoy," Aramis said. "I expected you to be by my side through this, to help me discover the truth." He paused again. "But there was no 'all for one'; you wanted no part of it! I feel...betrayed." The last word was a whisper.

"We are not the only ones who betrayed you," Athos said.

Those words were like a dagger in Aramis' stomach, and the strength seemed to leave his limbs. Someone was suddenly grasping his arms, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was Athos.

" _Marsac_ is the one who betrayed you," Athos vehemently said. "He left you to die in that forest, and then he came back to _use_ you in his plot for revenge!"

Aramis closed his eyes and lowered his head, not even realizing that he was suddenly sitting on his bed.

"Treville told us what happened," Athos continued, squeezing his arms. "Marsac _wanted_ to die; he came here _to die!"_

Tears filled Aramis' eyes.

"But he planned to take Treville _with_ him," Athos said. "He planned a murder-suicide; that's why he knocked you out first, to keep you from interfering. You stopped him from killing the captain, but Marsac was dead anyway, whether you shot him or not!"

Aramis knew that he was right, but he couldn't speak as he tried to hold in his emotions.

Arms were suddenly around Aramis, holding him tightly. "Let it out," Porthos said. "You'll feel better."

Aramis closed his eyes, unable to stop the tears from falling; tears for losing his friend, tears for the twenty musketeers who'd lost their lives in Savoy, and tears for Treville: for carrying the burden of his accidental part in the incident.

It took a few minutes for Aramis to realize that someone was compassionately rubbing his back. All three of his friends had their hands on him, it appeared.

"There's no shame in mourning," said d'Artagnan.

Aramis suddenly felt guilty for yelling at them. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No," said Athos. "You have no cause to apologize. We were wrong; we let our hatred for Marsac cloud our judgment, resulting in more harm to you."

"I dreamed about throttling him," Porthos suddenly said. "So many times, over the years." He sighed and tightened his arms around Aramis. "I'm so sorry for not being there. I was a fool to even let you be _alone_ with him after what he did to you five years ago!"

Aramis sighed, shifting his head and sniffing when his nose began to run.

A handkerchief appeared before his face, and he pulled back from Porthos far enough to take it and blow his nose.

"This won't happen again, Aramis," Porthos told him. "We will _never_ let you handle somethin' like this alone ever again, do you hear me?"

Aramis wiped his eyes and nodded.

"Look at me," said Porthos, giving him a shake. "I'm serious. I'll never forgive myself for this. We should've been there."

Aramis looked at him and sighed again, clearing his throat. "I believe you." He looked up, realizing that d'Artagnan was the one with the hand on his back. "Nothing is your fault," he said, sensing that their young friend felt awkward about his part in the events. "You hardly even knew anything about it."

D'Artagnan nodded, patting him on the shoulder.

Aramis looked at Athos, seeing the emotion in his eyes that were hidden to everyone in the world except for the three of them and Treville. He remembered Athos accepting the 'betrayed' description, and said to him, "I forgive you."

That was exactly what Athos needed to hear, and some of the turmoil left his eyes.

"Both of you," Aramis said, looking at Porthos.

Porthos nodded, though he still looked guilty himself.

A cup touched his hand and Aramis took it from Athos, finding wine inside. It was a huge goblet filled to the brim and he drank the entire cup in one go, hoping for the alcohol's effects to ease his mind.

The others didn't expect him to do that, and Porthos sat beside him and grabbed his chin. "Concussion?" he asked, studying the bruising around Aramis' left eye.

"No," was the answer.

"Are you sure?" Porthos asked, knowing how Aramis always downplayed his injuries.

"Yes," Aramis told him, as the alcohol rushed through his bloodstream and made him lightheaded.

Porthos saw nothing amiss with the size of his friend's pupils, so he stood and again reached over to undo the ties of his friend's wet cloak.

A few minutes later, Aramis was reclined on his bed, his brain feeling slightly numbed by the alcohol. "I won't be able to sleep," he told them.

"Try," said d'Artagnan, sad to see him suffering so.

Aramis closed his eyes, but reopened them when he heard a noise. He was surprised to see that Porthos had taken the Bible off his nightstand.

A few seconds later, Porthos started to read.

 _"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want._

 _He maketh me to lie down in green pastures._

 _He leadeth me beside the still waters._

 _He restoreth my soul._

 _He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake._

 _Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me._

 _Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me._

 _Thou prepareth a table before me in the presence of mine enemies._

 _Thou anointest my head with oil._

 _My cup runneth over._

 _Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the courts of the Lord forever."*_

Porthos looked up from the page, and found Aramis sound asleep.

THE END

*Psalm 23 KJV


	5. S1E5: The Homecoming

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Tag to S1E5

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Porthos suddenly heard a noise, and opened his eyes. He blinked for a few seconds at the nearly-spent candle on his nightstand before sighing; he'd finally started to doze off after having trouble falling to sleep and now he was awake again!

Another noise met his ears; it sounded like a door. Frowning, Porthos got out of bed and went over to his own, opening it to see who was up in the middle of the night.

Aramis was on the other side.

Porthos was surprised. "Hey," he said. "Somethin' wrong?"

Aramis opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated.

The sight filled Porthos with alarm. A speechless Aramis was _never_ a good sign. He took his friend's arm and pulled him into the room. "What's wrong?" he asked, grabbing a second candle and lighting it with the dying flame of the other. One thing entered his mind and he grabbed his friend again to look him over. "Don't tell me you were wounded today and only _now_ thought to mention it!"

Aramis shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

"Then what's the matter?" Porthos asked, sitting down on his bed.

Aramis remained where he stood. "I couldn't sleep because something is weighing on my mind."

"And that is?" said Porthos, disguising his impatience.

Aramis sighed again. "I'm so sorry, Porthos, for killing your friend."

Porthos blinked at the unexpected words before shaking his head. "He came at me from behind with a knife and you reacted exactly the way that you should've."

Aramis nodded. "I know, but I didn't realize who he was. If I had reacted differently, he might've survived."

Porthos shook his head. "Charon practically ran into your blade. It's not as if you shouted a war cry and charged him."

"Still," said Aramis. "I'm sorry."

Porthos stared at him, realizing that the recent incident with Marsac was probably fueling Aramis' guilt. "I'm not upset, Aramis. Charon and I were friends one day and enemies the next, growin' up. He was always competin' with me and causin' trouble. Gettin' away from him was one of the reasons why I left The Court. It's a sad thing that this happened, but I'm fine, Aramis. Really."

Aramis said nothing.

"It's not the same situation as you and…you know," Porthos said, not wanting to mention Marsac's name and make Aramis sadder than he already was. "And it was _not_ your fault; I don't blame you in _any_ way. Do you understand?"

Aramis studied him for moment before nodding. "Yes." He turned to go after a moment. "Good night."

Porthos watched him head for the door. "Aramis."

His hand on the doorknob, Aramis turned.

Porthos stood from the bed and went over to him. "Things _could've_ gone differently; if I'd moved aside and you didn't have your sword in your hand, _you_ could've been stabbed. I'd rather have _you_ than _him_ any day."

Aramis smiled.

"That's what I wanted to see!" Porthos said, smiling back. He reached out and grabbed his friend in a bear hug. "Now go to bed and go to sleep."

Aramis hugged him back. "All right."

Porthos thumped him on the back before pulling away. "Sleep well."

Aramis smiled again. "You too." With that, he left.

Porthos went back to his own bed and plopped down. Their talk had apparently been beneficial to him too, for he fell right to sleep with no problem.

THE END


	6. S1E6: The Exiles

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Tag to 'The Exiles'

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Porthos watched Aramis as they rode into the garrison after returning baby Henry to Agnes. He could tell that his friend was in some kind of physical pain, and he thought he had an idea of where it was coming from. He waited to watch Aramis dismount and saw that he was right; it was obviously coming from his friend's right arm.

Aramis tried not to wince as he let the stable boy take his horse. He went over and sat at the outside table, sighing with relief that the harrowing events of the day were over.

"Out with it."

Aramis looked up at Porthos. "Out with what?"

"You got hurt today," said Porthos. "Show me."

Aramis made a face. "It's nothing."

Porthos made a face back. "Do you leave us be when _we_ say 'it's nothing'?"

Aramis sighed. "No."

"Well then," said Porthos. "Out with it."

Aramis unbuckled his weapons belts and unwound his sash…noticeably doing most of the work with his left hand. He unbuttoned his doublet and shifted to remove it, but froze. "That appears to be my limit," he said, his voice sounding strained.

"Right arm?" Porthos asked.

"Yes."

"I thought so." Porthos quickly went around to Aramis' left and held the end of the sleeve while Aramis pulled his arm out of it, before going back to his right side and carefully peeling the doublet off him so he wouldn't move his arm.

Once the doublet was off, Aramis reached over with his left hand to pull the collar of his shirt down on the right, displaying a shoulder and upper arm that were a deep purple color.

"Ouch," Porthos said. "I saw that happen; when they pulled you off the horse, your arm hit the bridge rail."

"Exactly," Aramis agreed.

Porthos reached out to touch it, but Aramis pulled away. "How bad is it?"

"Not dislocated, nothing broken," said Aramis. "Just very bruised."

"And swollen," Porthos noticed.

Aramis reached over to pull his shirt collar back up. "And worth it, to save them."

Porthos nodded. "Stay here, I'll get food and a sling."

Aramis nodded back and watched as he left, thinking back to the look on Agnes' face when he'd placed baby Henry into her arms. It was something that he would smile about for a long, long time.

THE END


	7. S1E7: A Rebellious Woman

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Saturday Story: Missing scene to S1E7

Enjoy!

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Cardinal Richelieu lay in his bed, feeling exhausted, ill, and unable to believe how close he'd come to death that day. What shocked him even more, though, was who exactly had saved him.

Musketeers. Rather, a specific one: Aramis…of all people.

Richelieu had plotted more than once to kill the young musketeer during the past five years; the first time was just after the Savoy massacre—which Richelieu had expected no one to survive. He'd planned to kill Aramis to ensure his silence in case he knew that their attacker was the Duke of Savoy, but Aramis had been so addled from a severe concussion that he'd been convinced that Aramis knew nothing.

The second time…that had been when he'd discovered that Aramis and Adele were carrying on a relationship behind his back. He been about to pay Milady to kill him, but then he realized that Adele could've been a plant to spy on him and give information to the musketeers. She knew too much, and therefore was the one who needed to be dealt with, quickly…and it would look suspicious to kill them both. He could no longer trust Adele, and so he had her killed, even though he hadn't wanted to.

Aramis' survival after both incidents had unexpectedly turned out to be for the best; he'd personally saved the king's life more than once since then, and his marksmanship skills were unmatched and very needed. Even though Richelieu wanted Aramis dead, he'd accepted that Paris needed him…for the time being.

A few days prior, Richelieu was again entertaining the thought of killing Aramis, still wanting revenge for Adele—but then Sestini had come from Rome and the situation with Ninon had arisen…and in the middle of it all, someone had poisoned him…

…and Aramis had saved him.

Richelieu closed his eyes. He knew that Aramis was considered to be a medic, but he still couldn't believe that he'd used his skills to save his life. It was no secret that he and the musketeers didn't see eye to eye, and Aramis could've taken this as the perfect opportunity to rid them of him. Instead, he'd taken the necessary action that was the very reason for Richelieu's survival; if Aramis hadn't made him drink that foul concoction, he would surly have died.

Twice, Richelieu had planned to kill Aramis and had been considering it again, but how was he supposed to kill him _now_? He owed Aramis his life.

Richelieu sighed and closed his eyes. All he knew was one thing: the poison would've killed him if he'd had Aramis murdered. By the time the doctors arrived, it would've been too late. Perhaps he needed to give up his vendetta against Aramis? Could he do that...even for just a while longer?

 _I've done terrible things; my account with God is not yet balanced. I am afraid...that if I die...I shall go to hell…_

Richelieu opened his eyes. Yes, he could do it.

THE END


	8. S1E8: The Challenge

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Tag to S1E8: 'The Challenge'

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"You were right."

Aramis looked at Athos with a smile. "I know."

"Modest statement," Athos commented.

Aramis chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

Aramis turned to see Porthos standing behind them, chewing on something. "Athos was just complimenting me on my genius."

"You mean from knowin' that d'Artagnan would be commissioned?"

Aramis nodded. "And for having his pauldron made and carrying it around in my saddlebag."

"Yeah, it was smart, that," Porthos agreed. He leaned over to peer around his friends from where they stood looking outside the garrison gate. "What're we lookin' at?"

"A peacock proudly displaying its feathers."

Porthos suddenly spotted d'Artagnan strolling down the street, head held high. He smiled at the others and they quickly retreated inside the garrison before d'Artagnan could see them.

Aramis led the way to the outside table, and they sat down facing away from the gate. When he felt a presence behind his back, he turned. "Why, d'Artagnan! You look different somehow! Let me see…what is it?"

D'Artagnan smiled and folded his arms.

"Hmm," said Aramis. "Is your hair shorter? No. Longer? No. Hmm…"

D'Artagnan chuckled. "How did you know? You had this for how _long_?" he asked, tapping his pauldron.

"A few months," said Aramis. "When Athos and I were stuck in that animal trap*, Athos was trying to keep me awake. I told him that you would be a musketeer by year's end, and needed a pauldron."

D'Artagnan smiled.

"We had faith in you, d'Artagnan," said Aramis. "Well done."

D'Artagnan's smile widened, as the others echoed the sentiment.

"Hey why don't you head to the bakery down the street and grab us some pastries?" Porthos suddenly said. "I don't think _all_ of Paris saw your pauldron yet."

Everyone laughed.

"My pleasure," said d'Artagnan. He headed out the gate, and disappeared.

Serge suddenly came out of the kitchen carrying a wine bottle and four cups. "You boys have some celebratin' to do," he said, placing them on the table.

"We do," said Porthos. "D'Artagnan will be back with pastries!"

Serge laughed. "D'Artagnan the _musketeer_."

Aramis nodded and filled everyone's cups. "D'Artagnan the musketeer." He raised his cup. "To d'Artagnan!"

Everyone raised their cups and drank.

"You'd better save some of that for _him_!" Serge said.

Athos picked up the wine bottle and sloshed it around to see how much was in it. He gave Serge a look, and the old cook chuckled and headed back to the kitchen for another bottle.

THE END

*'Cold as Death': storyID 12816941


	9. S1E9: Knight Takes Queen

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Missing scene (rather, Aramis' thoughts during a scene) to S1E9: Knight Takes Queen

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Aramis sighed from where he sat on a bench inside the convent. His mind was in a whirl; he couldn't comprehend the fact that Isabelle was dead. _We were supposed to marry and raise our child,_ he thought. But no…the child had been lost and now, after not seeing Isabelle for years, she'd died in his arms?

 _How is this even possible?_ he asked himself, his head in his hands. _Lord,_ he prayed. _Why did this have to happen? Why?_ That they were never meant to be together was obvious, but Aramis still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that Isabelle was here—was wonderfully alive—and now, she was dead…her cooling body laid out for burial preparations.

Another sigh broke from his lips and he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Was it his fault that she was dead? Could he have prevented it in some way? _Don't think that way,_ he told himself. _My duty is to protect the queen, and I can't do that with a clouded mind…_

But still, he couldn't stop agonizing over it, and he wondered about an unborn infant's soul. Would it just vanish as if it never existed, or would it go to Heaven? If so, what age would it be? Did Isabelle find it?

A literal pain seemed to stab his stomach as he imagined Isabelle standing in Heaven, clothed all in white with the Glory of God around her, holding their baby. They were together, while he was still here on earth.

Tears filled Aramis' eyes, but before they had a chance to fall, a voice called out, "What are they building?"

The queen.

Aramis realized that he could hear banging…he'd barely noticed it as he suffered through his grief. _I need to focus on my duty,_ he thought, as he took a breath to answer. _God has me here on earth for a reason. I'll see them again someday…someday..._

THE END


	10. S1E10: Musketeers Don't Die Easily

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Tag to S1E10

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Aramis couldn't stop pacing; back and forth, back and forth. _The queen is with child…my child! Mine!_ Time passed without him noticing as he tried to wrap his mind around it, and when his door opened a while later, he didn't even notice.

"Aramis. _Aramis_."

It took someone grabbing his arms to make him stop pacing and come back to himself. He looked to see that it was Athos, watching him with his usual impassive stare, though Aramis could easily see the concern in his expression that Athos reserved only for him, Porthos, d'Artagnan, and Treville. "It's _mine_ , Athos," he said.

"You can't be sure of that," Athos told him.

"Of course I'm sure!" Aramis told him. "And so is she!"

Athos tightened the grip on his friend's arms. "I can understand why you wish to think so…"

"Athos," said Aramis. "The king and queen have been together for years and only conceived once. That child was lost and the queen was thought to be barren ever since. Then she and I are together _once_ , and now there's a child? You think it coincidence?"

Athos said nothing.

"The physical defect that has prevented offspring for them is with the _king_ , not the queen," said Aramis. "We were together _once_ , and she's with child!" He shook his head as his gaze shifted away from Athos. " _My_ child!"

"You cannot think this way," said Athos. "That child belongs to the _king,_ and will become the dauphin of France, to rule someday after Louis. He is not the humble son of a foolish musketeer who should never have set foot inside that room."

Aramis sighed, abashed, before looking at Athos again with a smile. "You believe it to be a boy?"

Athos rolled his eyes and let go of his friend before taking a few steps away. "For your own good, Aramis, you need to tell yourself that it is not your child, no matter how sure you are. You have a duty to protect the royal family, not be a father to the child that will be raised to rule France."

Aramis sighed again, before walking over to his bed and sitting down. "I know, but, Athos…it's my child. _My_ child…"

"You can never have him, Aramis," Athos told him. "You can only watch him from afar, which is what's best for you, him, and the queen."

Aramis lowered his head.

Athos sat beside him. "You need to accept that _now,_ before it becomes even harder for you to do so."

Aramis glanced up at Athos before looking down again. "I thought I had a family, once, with Isabelle and our unborn child. Then she lost it and disappeared…and died in that convent. Now I have _another_ child that will never be mine."

Athos placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say.

Aramis sighed.

"Go to bed," said Athos. "Get some rest."

Aramis huffed, as if doubting that he would sleep.

"Then pray," said Athos, knowing _that_ , if nothing else, would soothe Aramis' trouble thoughts.

Aramis looked at him and nodded. "I will. Thank you, Athos."

Athos nodded and squeezed his shoulder, before rising and leaving the room.

Aramis changed into nightclothes before getting into bed and laying his tired head on the pillow. "Lord," he prayed, with a tired sigh. "Please help me…"

God heard him before he even finished his sentence, for that was as far as Aramis got before falling fast asleep.

THE END


	11. What Happened Between S1 and S2?

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Ever wonder what happened between S1 and S2? Wonder no more, and read on, lol!

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The sound of heavy breathing filled the air, and Athos could do nothing but wonder how they got into such bizarre situations.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Athos' hand was suddenly squeezed so hard that he was sure he heard bones crack, and he wished for nothing more in that moment to be able to hit Aramis.

"Good!" Aramis said to the woman whose name they didn't even know. "I can see it! Bear down!"

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Athos' ears were ringing from the woman's screams, and his hand was crushed once again. If it'd been up to him, he'd rather be out in the storm that was raging outside. He wished that they'd never sought shelter; what were the chances that the first home they'd come to had a woman alone inside who was about to give birth? All she'd told them was that her husband was away and then she'd started screaming.

Aramis—thank God—had immediately taken over…and had shoved Athos' hand into hers.

Athos wanted to kill him.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Good! Again!" Aramis encouraged.

Athos was glad that he couldn't see anything from where he sat beside the woman, though he did feel some sympathy for what she was going through.

A moment later, the woman dropped her head back against the wall, gasping for air. Athos wondered if it was over.

Aramis had a look of wonder on his face, and he grabbed a towel from the bed and did something that Athos was again glad that he couldn't see.

Seconds later, the woman picked her head up with a pained grimace, and Athos realized that his hand wasn't finished being crushed. A second later, he was back to wanting to kill Aramis.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

Aramis did something again, smiling now as he glanced up at them. "Good! Once more!"

The woman screamed for the last time as she obeyed with whatever strength she had left, and the sound of crying filled the air…and Athos wondered whether it was from the infant or his crushed hand.

Aramis' smile could've lit up the darkest night as he looked at them. "You have a son!" he told the woman.

Athos pulled his hand away and tried not to show how badly it hurt.

The woman was crying herself now, joyfully reaching out her arms for her child.

Aramis gladly handed it over, wrapped in the blanket that she had undoubtedly knitted herself.

Athos frowned at the sight of the baby, which was smaller than he expected it to be. How could something so tiny cause such agony?

"Thank you!" she sobbed.

Aramis smiled. "It was my honor to help bring your child into the world."

The woman let them stay the rest of the night, which was the least she could do, really.

When Athos woke in the morning, he wandered around the house looking for Aramis. He heard the unmistakable sounds of infant noises and his friend's soft whisper, and he peeked into the open door of the woman's bedroom.

Aramis was sitting on a chair with the baby in his arms as the exhausted mother slept. He looked towards the door and saw Athos watching, before he quietly crept out the door holding the baby.

Athos inwardly sighed. What if she woke and panicked to find her son 'missing'?

"Look at him, Athos," Aramis whispered.

Athos did. He'd had very little experience with babies through his lifetime, and wasn't quite sure of what exactly Aramis wanted him to see.

Aramis looked at him, and Athos could see mixed emotions in his eyes. "This could be my own son," Aramis told him.

Athos knew that he didn't mean literally; but the queen was due to bring her own child into the world soon…Aramis' child.

Aramis looked at the baby again. "What will my son look like?" He reached to take the baby's tiny hand into his own. "Look how small, Athos." He shook his head, suddenly at a loss for words.

The baby suddenly opened his eyes.

Aramis smiled. "Do you think he'll look like me?"

"For your sake, I hope not," Athos said.

Aramis looked at him again, before sighing as he stared once more at the baby.

"Put him back," Athos gently told him. "Before she wakes and thinks that we abducted him."

Aramis nodded, before quietly walking into the room and laying the baby down again.

They stayed that day and the following one, making sure the woman was back on her feet before they left. As they rode, Aramis was quiet, which wasn't normal for him.

"I can't help the way I feel, Athos," he suddenly said.

Athos looked at him. "Stop thinking about them; they belong to the king."

Aramis looked at him, growing frustrated. "It's not as easy as you make it seem! I just delivered a baby! My _own_ child—who I can never claim—will be born in a matter of weeks!"

Athos stopped his horse. "You know the danger that can arise from what you and the queen did. It's too late to change it, but you cannot do or say anything or act in any way that will look suspicious to the king!"

Aramis ran a hand through his hair. "I know, but they consume my every waking thought!"

Athos sighed before shaking his head. "I do not know what else to say."

Aramis echoed the sigh. "I know that you're right…but it's so hard."

They remained where they were for another moment before Aramis started his horse walking again.

Athos followed and they rode side by side. "Perhaps, with time, it will get easier?"

Aramis glanced at him with a sad smile. "I can only pray that it will."

THE END


	12. S2E1: Keep your Friends Close

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"If you love me, you'll jump!"

Thinking back, Aramis had thought Adele's panicked statement had been hilarious. He'd done as she'd asked—without having time to figure out how he'd get down from her second story window—but he'd never expected it to be one of the last things she'd ever say to him.

After the cardinal died, Aramis wondered if Adele would come back to Paris. He wasn't sure how he felt about that; he'd been deeply hurt when she'd gone with Richelieu instead of staying with him. Apparently, money meant more to her than love. If she came back to him, he would be her second choice, only there because the money was gone.

Aramis didn't like that.

Then there was the queen...and his infant son. He wanted to remain faithful to her—they'd created a child!—but part of his mind told him that it was ridiculous; they could never be together, so what was the point? Could he really be content to remain alone for the rest of his life, pining for the queen and his son from afar? It was unrealistic.

When Aramis walked into the palace with his friends and the newly-rescued Rochefort, and had seen Queen Anne sitting upon her throne looking exactly as she'd looked several months before, he realized with shock that the child had been born during the two days that they'd been away. She was wearing black, in mourning for the cardinal, but why was she in the throne room at all? Shouldn't she be resting, with their child?

Sudden horror filled Aramis at his next thought and he literally grew lightheaded. Had the child died?

It was difficult, but Aramis managed to not display the panic on his face as he looked at the queen.

Anne looked back at him, and there was no grief in her gaze.

Aramis let out a slow breath of relief. The child lived.

Soon after, Aramis saw the dauphin in the arms of the royal governess. His heart instantly melted at the sight, and he felt joy at the chance to see his son.

That evening, his joy was replaced with horror once again...to find out that Adele was dead, and at the hands of Richelieu. She hadn't left Paris with him _after_ all! Richelieu had discovered their relationship and Adele had lost her life because of it.

All those months that Aramis thought she'd chosen Richelieu over him, all those months that he'd felt hurt and rejected...she'd been lying dead.

Aramis' face was in his hands where he sat on his bed. How had life come to this...and what would happen next?

Aramis was afraid to find out.

THE END


	13. S2E2: An Ordinary Man

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Athos sighed as he headed for Aramis' door. It was late but he had a feeling that his friend was not asleep. The events of the day had been harrowing and nearly life-changing for the entire country of France, but he had a feeling that something else was on Aramis' mind.

Arriving before the door, Athos knocked and entered without waiting for permission. He spotted Aramis standing before his window, clad in his breeches and shirt, his doublet and weapons tossed on the dresser.

Aramis turned, looking askance at his friend.

"What did you do?" Athos asked.

Aramis blinked and a guilty expression flashed across his face before it vanished. "Do?"

"After the insanity of today, you sat through supper hardly saying a word," said Athos. "With your eyes _glowing_."

Aramis smiled. "Don't my eyes _always_ glow with happy exuberance?"

Athos paused before answering. "They glow differently when it concerns… _them._ "

Aramis sucked in his breath in surprise to hear that, before suddenly striding over to Athos and excitedly grabbing his arms. "I held him, Athos!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "I held my son!"

Athos inhaled slowly through his nose and let it out noisily, stopping himself from exploding. "How on earth did you manage _that?!_ " he hissed.

Aramis smiled and didn't even seem to hear his question. "You should've seen him! He's beautiful!"

"He doesn't resemble _you_ then," Athos replied.

Aramis laughed and squeezed his friend's arms. "He's so small, Athos, he hardly seemed to weigh anything. He looked right at me…"

Athos frowned when Aramis let go of him and looked to the side. "What is it?"

Aramis sighed. "He looked right at me, but he doesn't know that I'm his father."

"And he _cannot_ know," said Athos, reaching his hands up to clutch Aramis' arms. " _Nothing_ that you say to him—even as a whisper only for his ears—is safe to utter. Don't be a fool!"

Aramis looked away.

"He's not even capable of understanding," said Athos. "Don't do that again, Aramis. Don't put yourself into a position that could end with your death."

Aramis closed his eyes. "I…held…my…son," he said, stressing every word. "That was the one thing that I wanted most in the world."

Athos squeezed his arms. "And you succeeded—at risk of your life. Be content with the time that you spent with him today."

Aramis knew that he couldn't settle just for that. He sighed and walked a few steps away.

Athos watched him for a moment, feeling sorry to have saddened him. He walked towards his friend and put a hand on his shoulder. "Forget about them now, Aramis; forget what they mean to you, for your own good."

Aramis sighed again.

Athos squeezed his shoulder again before turning and leaving the room.

After the door closed, Aramis headed back towards the window and stood looking out it; towards the palace.

Forget them? _Forget_ _them?_

Never.

THE END


	14. S2E3: The Good Traitor

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Aramis watched out his window as Porthos and Samara spoke in the courtyard. After she eventually walked away, Aramis went and sat on his bed, carefully touching the lump on the back of his head that he'd obtained when Tariq Alaman had ignited the exploding powder. He'd been thrown backwards from the blast and had a painful landing, but they'd all been fortunate to not have been injured severely. With a sigh, Aramis thanked God for the twenty-fifth time that none of them had been inside the building when it had exploded.

A hand touched his arm, and Aramis opened eyes that he hadn't realize he'd closed.

"Hey, you all right?" It was Porthos.

Aramis removed the hand from his head. "I'm fine."

"Liar," said Porthos. He sat beside him and grabbed his head, trying to find the problem.

"Ow!" Aramis exclaimed when Porthos touched the bump. He flinched away but Porthos didn't let go as he prodded it.

"That's a big bump," said Porthos.

"I know, I can feel you _stabbing_ it," Aramis replied sarcastically.

"Concussion?" Porthos asked, looking at Aramis and grabbing his face to look into his eyes.

Aramis sighed. "Slight, perhaps."

"Feel sick? Dizzy?"

"Earlier, but I'm just tired now," Aramis told him. He looked down to Porthos' leg, where he could see the bulging bandage through his breeches. "Don't worry about me," he said, guiltily. "I'm so sorry about your leg."

Porthos shook his head. "It's all right; we can't expect every plan to go the way we want it to. I don't blame you for it."

Aramis sighed, remembering the crying baby that had momentarily distracted him, resulting in Porthos taking an arrow to the leg.

Porthos didn't know about that, of course. "You're pale; lie down." He pushed Aramis down to the mattress and grabbed his legs, swinging them onto the bed.

The motion made Aramis dizzy. "How are you walking so well?" he asked.

"You know me," said Porthos. "Quick healer. Besides, you said yourself that the arrow didn't hit the bone."

"Miraculously," said Aramis.

Porthos sat on the bed. "I mean, it hurts and I won't be dancin' for a while, but I'll be fine."

Aramis smiled at him. "Did I see a hint of romance between you and Samara?"

Porthos blinked. "When did you—? Oh, just now? You were spyin' on us!"

Aramis chuckled. "It's not spying when you're out in the open."

Porthos nodded. "True. No, I wouldn't say romance; I could never be what she'd want."

Aramis thought that to be a very odd statement. "What?" he said, starting to push himself upright. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Porthos pushed him back down flat. "She said that I should go back to my roots." He gestured to himself.

"Roots? But you're French…oh." It took Aramis a second to understand.

"Exactly, I'm _French_ ;" said Porthos. "And that's all I want to be."

Aramis nodded before realizing that was the wrong thing to do to himself. "Ooooh," he involuntarily moaned, closing his eyes when his head responded with a spinning throb.

"Hey, no movin'," said Porthos, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing it with concern.

Aramis was surprised at the sudden increase of pain and he raised a hand to put on his head. "I was fine before," he gasped.

Porthos nodded. "Our bodies catch up after the danger is over." He shrugged. "Mine already caught up and I'm feelin' better now…probably because I'm back and not stuck in that place anymore." He looked at Aramis, who still had a pained expression on his face. "Looks like it's your turn now."

Aramis reopened his eyes with a sigh. "I'm fine."

Porthos huffed. "Sure you are. Move over. No! Don't move." He limped over to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and carefully lifting his wounded leg onto the bed.

Aramis was reminded again of had happened that day and he sighed, wishing that he didn't have to keep the dauphin a secret from his closest friend. Oh how much easier his life would be if he had Porthos to talk to about it!

"Hey," said Porthos. "Stop thinkin' whatever it is that you're thinkin'; everythin's fine now."

Aramis glanced at him without moving his pounding head. "Everything's fine?"

Porthos nodded and patted his arm. "That's right; and whatever _isn't_ fine _will_ be. Just rest."

Aramis thought about that for a moment. Whatever wasn't fine would be, whether it looked that way at the moment or not. Comforted by that thought, Aramis smiled.

THE END


	15. S2E4: Emilie

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"Wanna talk about it?" said Porthos.

Aramis looked up from his plate, realizing that his three friends were staring at him. He realized that he'd hardly eaten anything, and placed his fork down, having no appetite. "Not really."

"Aramis," said Athos, with his no-nonsense tone.

"You always say that it's good to talk about the things that bother us," said d'Artagnan.

Aramis sighed. "I'm just having a hard time reconciling some things in my mind," he admitted. "Emilie's mother…" He shook his head. "I just can't believe that a woman could do such a horrendous thing to her own daughter."

"Some people are evil, you know that," said Porthos.

"I know, but…" Aramis sighed. "Emilie told me about the dreams that she'd had. I heard her screams in the night. How could her mother stand by and allow her to be tormented?"

"We'll never know the answer," said d'Artagnan. "How did you achieve such a quick position with her? I've been wondering all this time."

Aramis reached for his cup of wine, drinking it as he thought of an answer. He certainly didn't want to tell them that Emilie's mother had ordered his beheading after catching him spying. "The night that I infiltrated the camp, I was caught listening at her tent. Emilie's mother immediately called me Spanish, but Emilie saw something in me and made them let me go. The next day, she told me that I was with her in a dream, by her side."

"Well now we know why the dream made her scream!" said Porthos.

D'Artagnan laughed and Aramis rolled his eyes before shaking his head with a smile.

Athos refilled their cups, and Aramis eventually continued. "Her mother didn't like me, and Emilie eventually realized that I was a plant." He sighed. "But she trusted me, despite it. I just feel so sorry for her now. She has nothing…she went back to her town without her mission, and without her mother."

"Her 'mission' was false," said Athos. "And her mother's death was not your fault."

Aramis sighed again. "Still, I wish that the outcome had been different."

"It could've been _very_ different," said Athos. "The king could've ordered her and the entire camp slaughtered. You prevented that, and the only casualty was the guilty party; her mother."

Aramis sighed again.

"Let it go, Aramis," said Porthos. "He's right."

"Emilie didn't blame you," said d'Artagnan. "So there's no need to blame yourself."

Aramis stared into his wine for a few seconds before nodding and drinking the rest. "I'm going to my room, to pray," he said, before standing. "Thank you…I know that you're right."

The others all nodded and watched as he walked off, hoping that Aramis would truly be able to let it go.

THE END


	16. S2E5: The Return

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"How did you find out where I was?"

Everyone looked at Athos as they rode. They'd just left the village of Pinon on their way back to Paris.

"Did someone witness my capture?" Athos asked.

"Aramis read your mail," said Porthos. "We figured it out from there."

Athos stopped riding, and the others didn't realize at first. They stopped themselves and turned to look at him.

"You…read my mail."

Aramis blinked at his tone, before nodding. "Yes."

Athos frowned. "Is nothing sacred?"

"You were missing," said Aramis. "If _I_ was missing, I'd hope that _you_ would read _my_ mail."

"That wouldn't work with you, Aramis," Porthos said. "So many women send you letters, that we wouldn't know which one of them kidnapped you!"

D'Artagnan chuckled.

"You could've been dead, Athos, for all we knew," said Aramis.

"And if you were, you wouldn't _care_ if someone read your mail!" said Porthos.

Athos looked up at the sky and shook his head.

"You're not actually angry that I read it, are you?" Aramis asked with surprise. "It's not as if your past has been an open book in all the years that we've known you. Aside from taverns and alleys, we weren't sure _where_ to look."

Athos gave no reply, seemingly making his opinion obvious.

"I'm insulted!" Aramis exclaimed. He theatrically faced forward again and kicked his horse into a walk.

Everyone gave Athos stern looks.

Athos got his horse moving and rode beside Aramis. "I'm not angry…I'm grateful."

Aramis smiled. "That's better! You really should know by now that none of us can have privacy from each other. And I'll tell you something else…if something like this ever happens again, the _first_ thing I'm doing is reading your mail. Maybe I'll find a perfumed letter from a woman that you're hiding behind our backs!" A look of shock suddenly dawned on his face. "Is _that_ why you didn't want anyone to read your mail?"

Athos shot an exasperated look at the sky again. "Aramis?"

"Yes?"

"Stop, or I'll send _you_ through the mail."

"Hrumph."

THE END

Yeah I know, 'mail' seems a modern term, but oh well. LOL


	17. S2E6: Through a Glass Darkly

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"I'm fine."

"No you're not."

Aramis shot an exasperated look at Porthos. "I'm alive, awake, and walking."

"Riding."

Aramis turned his head to look at Athos on his left. The motion made him dizzy. "What difference does _that_ make?" he asked, which he knew was a ridiculous question.

"It makes _all_ the difference," said Athos. "Riding does not require the same amount of exertion as walking."

"Your point is?" Aramis asked, even though he knew very well.

"If we were walking," said d'Artagnan. "You'd be _falling_ by now."

"I couldn't have said it better," Athos remarked.

Aramis let out an annoyed breath, before telling himself that he would be saying the same thing if one of _them_ had been thrown out a five-story window. His head was throbbing though, making it very difficult to argue.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm. "Hey."

Aramis opened eyes that he hadn't realize he'd closed. He'd also apparently raised a hand to his head without his knowledge so he lowered it, blinking. "I'm fine."

Porthos rolled his eyes. "We're not goin' back to the start of the argument!"

"Good," said Aramis. "Can I please have some quiet now? It's not easy on the nerves for a man to get pushed out a window."

Everyone fell silent after that.

Aramis was immensely relieved, for talking was making his head hurt worse. Finally, he had a chance to catalog his injuries: besides his head, his neck and back fiercely ached. There was a pain in his right leg and a soreness invading every part of his body. He could feel dozens of small scratches covering his skin, and he knew that there was glass in his hair. All he wanted was to go to his room and sleep.

"Fatigue is a sign of concussion," Porthos suddenly said.

Aramis blinked. "What?"

"That's what you taught us," Porthos continued.

"What about it?" Aramis asked.

"You just said that you want to sleep," said d'Artagnan.

Aramis didn't realize that he'd spoken aloud.

"You are concussed," said Athos, matter-of-factly.

Aramis rolled his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't, when the motion made the scenery spin. "Of course I am, but it isn't bad."

Athos stopped his horse, followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan.

Aramis continued past them, but stopped when they remained behind him. He stopped and turned his horse around—slowly, in defense of his dizzy head. "My injuries don't change the fact that we need to ride back to Paris."

"Maybe the king will let you ride in his carriage," d'Artagnan suggested.

"Absolutely _not_ ," said Aramis. The last thing he needed was to seem weak, even though he would love the chance to be with the queen and his son.

"Why have you stopped?" Treville's voice suddenly called, as he rode back to them.

"Aramis—" began Porthos.

"Is eager to get home," Aramis said, cutting him off.

Treville studied him, giving him a look as if he knew exactly what was going on. "Let's go," he said. "The sooner we arrive, the sooner you three can pick him apart," he said, glancing at the others.

Aramis gave them a triumphant smile, before realizing exactly what Treville had said.

Porthos chuckled when he saw Aramis' smile fade. He rode over beside him so that both horses were touching sides. "Come on," he said. "If you faint…"

Aramis made a face. "Musketeers don't f—"

"I mean, 'pass out' then," Porthos corrected.

"I'm not going to—"

" _Fine_ ," said Porthos. "We'll say 'fall asleep' then. If you _fall asleep_ , you can lean on me."

Aramis gave a theatrical sigh, but didn't protest, and they rode off again towards home.

THE END


	18. S2E7: A Marriage of Convenience

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Aramis sat at Treville's bedside, eyes closed and clutching his cross as he prayed. After their quick surgery and draining of blood from the captain's lung, Aramis couldn't stop thanking God that Treville had survived. Even now, there was always a chance that he could die, though Aramis was inwardly sure that he would live.

Suddenly, Aramis felt a touch on his arm and he opened his eyes to see Treville looking at him, eyes half-open. He clasped Treville's hand with relief. "It's good to see you awake."

Treville gave him a small, lopsided smile. "How did I…survive?" he whispered.

Aramis grabbed the glass of water that he'd had at the ready. "By the Grace of God."

"And your…surgery skill…" Treville said.

Aramis carefully helped him drink the water, before saying, "I and Dr. Lemay. We were unintentionally rough with our treatment, I'm sorry."

Treville shook his head; he knew that he'd literally been dying on that table and time was of the essence. He took a few breaths before saying, "You saved…my life."

"We both did," said Aramis.

Treville shook his head. "You…first."

Aramis knew what he was saying; Lemay had no experience removing bullets. "It wasn't the first time," Aramis said, remembering the many times that he'd doctored him. "But I do hope that it was the last."

Treville smiled slightly again before his eyes closed and his hand went limp in Aramis' grasp.

Aramis gently placed Treville's arm back on the bed and watched him breathe for a minute, before clutching his cross again and thanking God for the skill to save the lives of his friends.

THE END


	19. S2E8: The Prodigal Father

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Aramis knocked on Porthos' door, waiting for permission to enter before he did. He found his friend awake, sitting in a chair with his elbows on the windowsill.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Porthos asked.

"No," said Aramis. "Are you all right?"

Porthos turned to look at him. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Aramis sat on the bed and just looked at him.

Porthos shrugged. "I do wish it went differently, though."

Aramis nodded.

"But face it," Porthos continued. "If I had a _loving father,_ then he wouldn't've let me grow up where I did." He sighed. "I guess I was foolin' myself."

"It's normal, to hope," said Aramis. "You can't have known the truth."

Porthos nodded. "It just shocks me how people can abandon their own family. I was a child…and my mother…" he shook his head.

Aramis sighed.

"I mistreated the captain," Porthos said next. "He did what Belgard had him do…but then he did what my _father_ should have done; he looked for me. _He_ found me, and made me what I am."

Aramis nodded. "Captain Treville is a father to us all…unfortunately for _him_!"

Porthos chuckled at that. "Yeah."

Aramis reached over and grasped his friend's arm. "Put Belgard out of your mind; he isn't worth dwelling on."

"I know," Porthos answered, before sighing. "This all happened because I pressed the captain for information. I should've just trusted him…like he asked me to."

Aramis nodded. "We can't always know ahead of time what the consequences to a question will be."

Porthos nodded. "Yeah."

Aramis let go of him and sat back.

"You can go to bed," Porthos told him. "I'm fine…I just had to straighten out this stuff in my head…which you just helped me with. Plus, I can see the yawn that you're tryin' to hide."

Aramis was unable to hide it after that, and he chuckled after.

"Really," said Porthos. "Go to bed. I'm good now…besides, this is where I belong, anyway. Here, not with Belgard."

Aramis smiled and stood, clasping his friend's shoulder. "That's right. Good night, Porthos."

"Good night, Aramis."

THE END


	20. S2E9: The Accused

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Aramis was roughly pushed into a cell and immediately shackled to a long chain, which he fought against after the guards left. He pulled on it as hard as he could, but all he succeeded in was hurting his wrists. He looked around for a minute, before slumping to his knees, chest heaving from the exertion and fear. "God, help me," he prayed aloud.

"Aramis?" he suddenly heard.

He turned to look behind himself, spotting who was in the next cell. "Constance?"

"Aramis!" she said again, reaching an arm through the bars, desperate to feel the comforting touch of a friend.

Aramis stood and took a few steps, but the chain jerked on his wrists, stopping him. "What are you doing here?!"

"Lemay is dead," she said, her voice cracking. "They accused him and I of poisoning the king, and beheaded him!"

Aramis closed his eyes and lowered his head, sinking back down to sit on the floor.

"We're going to die, Aramis," Constance said, her voice hitching. "Unless a miracle happens."

 _A miracle…_ Aramis raised his head and looked up at the ceiling. "Lord," he prayed. "Please hear our cry, and deliver us from Rochefort's evil scheme. I am guilty for my crime, for which I again ask forgiveness, but Constance is innocent. Please spare her, at least."

"Aramis…" Constance tearfully moaned.

"God is not going to allow this," Aramis told her. "He knows that you are innocent. You are _not_ going to die, Constance."

"You need to live too," she said.

Aramis sighed raggedly. "If it is God's Will, then I shall."

Constance didn't have the faith or hope that Aramis did, and couldn't prevent tears from slipping down her face.

Aramis wished that he could reach her, but as he could not, he continued to pray.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures

He leadeth me beside the still waters

He restoreth my soul

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil

For Thou art with me

Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies

Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."*

Constance joined in with the parts that she knew, and they ended it together.

"Amen."

THE END

*Psalm 23 KJV


	21. S2E10: Trial and Punishment

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Tag to S2E10: Trial and Punishment

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The four musketeers walked out of the palace, each of them with their minds in a whirl; Rochefort had just been defeated and was finally dead. His body had just been removed and the king had thanked them profusely for saving the queen's life. He'd immediately declared both she and Aramis to be innocent and sent the musketeers on their way.

Treville left with them, as the king wanted to speak with Anne. He smiled as he watched the four younger men, who were all so full of relief.

Aramis, though, was quiet and appeared in an exhausted daze; his face was pale with shadows under his eyes and his steps were slow, making him fall slightly behind the others. He had his left hand clamped to his right arm, and Treville frowned when he spotted a bloodstain. He hadn't noticed it until now, and realized that Aramis must've been wounded during his fight with Rochefort.

As Treville watched him, he realized that they had no idea what Aramis had gone through in the prison; there was no doubt that Rochefort had withheld food, possibly even water. For all they knew, he could've been tortured and was hiding other wounds under his uniform. He frowned when he noticed that Aramis was growing paler and he stepped closer to him. "Aramis," he said, taking him by his uninjured arm. "You aren't planning to faint, are you?"

Aramis turned his head slightly, before blinking rapidly. "That's never something that I _plan_ to do."

Treville was surprised by two things: first, that Aramis hadn't corrected him with 'pass out', which he jokingly did every time someone mentioned him fainting, and second: that he hadn't said _no_.

Aramis swayed on his next step. "It's…entirely possible," he said.

Each of the other three musketeers turned to look at Aramis when they saw that he wasn't beside them anymore, but when they saw the captain speaking with him, they assumed that everything was fine.

Treville wrapped an arm around Aramis' back in support. "Your arm: is it bad?"

"No, but it requires needlework."

"Any other wounds?"

Aramis sighed. "Bumps and bruises."

"What about your wrists?" Treville asked.

Aramis raised his arms and looked at them. His wrists were surrounded with an angry red color and multiple scratches, rubbed raw from trying to get free of the shackles. "Oh," he said, absentmindedly. "And those."

Treville sighed. It was obvious that whatever was keeping Aramis' body going was quickly wearing off, now that the situation was finally over. "When did you last eat?"

Aramis thought for a minute. "I don't know." He shook his head. "Before the arrest."

 _Days_. Treville sighed, before having to grab Aramis quickly when he suddenly lost his balance, probably from shaking his head. "Water?"

"Once a day," Aramis said, grabbing the captain's arm to steady himself. "Just enough…" he had to pause to take a breath. "…to survive."

They reached the horses, and the other three looked back at them just in time to see Aramis stumble.

Porthos ran over and grabbed his other arm. "Hey!"

"He'll be all right," said Treville, as the others watched with alarm. "He needs water, food, and rest, in that order."

"And stitchin'," said Porthos, getting blood on his hand after grabbing his friend's arm.

Dizziness abruptly washed over Aramis, and he closed his eyes. "I need to sit," he announced.

Hands tightened themselves on his arms, and Aramis felt himself carefully lowered to sit on the ground. His brain felt like it was spinning and his head fell forward on its own accord. There was a flurry of activity around him, but he barely heard it through the sudden buzzing in his ears.

A pair of hands clamped around the wound in his arm and a wet cloth was suddenly patting over his face. Someone lifted his head and a waterskin touched his lips.

Aramis drank thirstily, but the water was quickly pulled away.

"You know better than that," Athos scolded. "Slowly!"

Aramis barely had time to register his words before a cramp seized his empty stomach and he winced.

"Oh _no_ ," said Porthos, assuming that the water Aramis had drank was about to make a reappearance.

Another set of hands grasped his shoulders from behind, to brace him in case he became ill, but Aramis thankfully didn't.

After a couple of minutes, they let him drink a little more. "Slowly," Athos repeated.

Aramis obeyed, taking small sips.

D'Artagnan eventually stopped putting pressure on Aramis' wound and tied a bandage around it, taken from Aramis' saddlebag.

"Can you go on, now?" Treville asked.

Aramis looked at him, feeling a little more alert thanks to the water. "Yes," he said. Whether it was true or not, he just wanted to get home to the garrison.

They carefully helped him up and onto Porthos' horse, and his friend mounted behind him. "Did you get any sleep in that prison?"

Aramis sighed; sleeping had been almost impossible. "Hardly any."

"Sleep then," Porthos said, pulling him back to rest against him. "With Rochefort dead, you're safe."

Aramis nodded, wincing at the headache caused by his body's depleted state.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep, as Porthos realized when Aramis went completely limp. "He's out," he told the others.

No one was surprised.

Once they arrived at the garrison, they quickly got Aramis down and brought him to his room. He didn't stir at all, even when they started undressing him. Aramis' torso was a mass of severe bruising; the hidden marks of Rochefort's abuse.

"If Rochefort wasn't already dead," said Porthos. "I'd be on my way to kill 'im right _now_."

"He can't hurt Aramis anymore," said Athos. "It's over."

Porthos nodded. "Finally."

Treville retrieved Aramis' medical kit and prepared to stitch his wound. He looked at the others to see them ready to hold Aramis down, and then he poured brandy over the sword cut.

Aramis didn't even flinch.

"He's not just _asleep_ ," d'Artagnan worriedly realized.

"He was imprisoned for a week without food," said Treville, as he threaded the needle. "Hardly any water or sleep…then he fought Rochefort with strength that he couldn't possibly have and now he's lost blood. Show me someone who _wouldn't_ be unconscious right now."

The others nodded.

Aramis was out cold through most of the stitching, though he suddenly moved his head with a soft moan when Treville pulled the needle through the worst part of the cut.

"You're all right," Porthos said to him, putting a hand on his head. "It's just the needle that you enjoy stabbing _us_ with!"

Aramis fell silent after that.

The others sat around his bed, wishing that he would wake so he could eat. It was very late that night when Treville put a hand on Aramis' forehead to check for fever, and was surprise when he scrunched up his eyes.

"Aramis?"

The voice sounded far away to the half-awake musketeer, and he didn't react until he felt a hand lay itself on his hair.

"Aramis."

Throbbing pain filled much of Aramis' body and he winced before opening his eyes slightly.

Treville smiled at him. "It's good to see you awake."

Aramis was momentarily confused, until he remembered the prison and Rochefort and the queen, and he automatically tried to sit up.

Treville grabbed his shoulders and held him down. "Take it easy!" he said. "You're home in the garrison."

Aramis looked around, seeing the interior of his room. His three friends were asleep in chairs. "What?"

"It's all over," said Treville. "Rochefort is dead and the queen is safe…as is your secret."

Aramis stared at him for a moment, as if not daring to believe it. The memories slowly came back to him and he closed his eyes.

"You need to eat something," said Treville.

"I'll get it," said a voice.

Treville turned to see Athos awake and standing from his chair. He headed over to the fire where they had a pot of soup at the ready, and he came back with a cup and spoon, which he handed to Treville before sliding an arm under Aramis and pulling him upright, standing up the pillows behind him so he was sitting against them.

"How long has it been?" Aramis asked.

"Too long!" came Porthos' voice.

Aramis looked at him, to find that he and d'Artagnan had also awoken. He smiled at them and they smiled back.

"You were out for nine or ten hours," said Treville, holding the cup to Aramis' lips. "Drink some broth first; make sure your stomach accepts it."

Aramis drank slowly, before giving a sound of pleasure. "How I missed Serge's soup."

"You can eat it every day," said Porthos. "Serge made enough for an army."

Aramis smiled again and drank more of it, before eating a few spoonfuls and stopping there. "I can't eat anymore."

Treville put the cup down. "You need to build back up slowly. Sleep; you'll feel better in the morning."

They helped Aramis lie down again and Aramis looked at each one of them before closing his eyes, thinking back to how they'd risked their lives to save him. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

Everyone smiled.

"All for one, Aramis," said Treville.

THE END


	22. What Happened Between S2 and S3?

What happened between Between S2 and S3?

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"Aramis!"

Arms enveloped him and Aramis laughed with delight, returning Porthos' embrace. "I've missed you," he said.

Porthos laughed too and pounded him on the back. "I knew you'd come back! You need danger in your life."

"And women," said another voice. "Which you don't have in a monastery!"

Aramis chuckled and hugged d'Artagnan next. "You're right about that, my friend…but I need _you_ three in my life more than _anyone_."

Athos hugged Aramis last, just as tightly as the others. "You're looking well," he said.

Aramis nodded as they walked towards their horses. "I am, though I may need some practice once we return to the garrison."

Porthos shook his head. "You? Never! You can probably shoot a fly off your horse's head without her even noticin'."

"I don't think she'd appreciate me trying!" Aramis answered as he mounted, and took one last look at the monastery before they rode away. Feelings of joy filled him, and he looked up to the sky. "Thank you," he whispered to God as they headed back to Paris.

With a start, Aramis opened his eyes to find himself sitting against a tree. He was surprised to realize that he'd apparently fallen asleep, and he quickly stood to find Luc and the other monastery orphans.

The dream came back to his mind and he stopped walking, sighing as the emptiness in his heart seemed to grow. The dream had felt so real! He reached up a hand to cover his eyes for a moment before sighing again. "Lord," he whispered. "Please, let me return to Paris some day...please..."

THE END


	23. S3E1: Spoils of War

Missing scene to S3E1: Spoils of War

This is what BBC _should've_ shown us!

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 _"Now are you gonna tell me that you didn't enjoy that?"_

Aramis and Porthos lay on the ground laughing, not even caring if the gunpowder blast had caused them any injuries. Porthos was right; Aramis _had_ enjoyed what they'd just done; it had been far too long since the two of them had fought together…far too long since they'd _seen_ each other.

Aramis heard Porthos sit up, and he opened his eyes. Pain throbbed through his skull and he could literally _feel_ a bruise forming on the left side of his forehead. He gave a soft groan in-between chuckles, and closed his eyes again.

"You all right?" he heard.

"I'll live," Aramis answered. He reopened his eyes and looked at Porthos before holding up a hand. Porthos took it and pulled him upright to sit.

Aramis looked at him with a sigh. "I missed you so much, Porthos."

Porthos said nothing at first, before he grabbed Aramis in a hug so fast that the breath rushed out of his lungs. "I missed _you_!" Porthos said.

Aramis hugged him back, and they clung to each other tightly.

"It wasn't true," Porthos exclaimed. "What I said before. It wasn't true!"

Aramis didn't know what he was talking about, but he didn't care; he was happy in his friend's embrace.

"We _didn't_ learn to live without you," Porthos explained. "It was impossible."

Aramis smiled. "Of course it was."

Porthos laughed again.

The two friends remained where they were for a few minutes longer, regaining their wits.

"We should go back," Aramis finally said. "Who knows what trouble Athos and d'Artagnan have gotten into without us."

Porthos chuckled and stood, heading over to the horses and bringing them back. "If you only _knew_ what trouble they've gotten into while you were gone!"

Aramis shook his head as they mounted. "I can only imagine!"

THE END


	24. S3E2: The Hunger

Tag to S3E2: The Hunger

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Aramis relaxed in the hot water of his bath, exhaling noisily and closing his eyes. His whole body was a mass of aches after the activity of the day. Four years ago, it would've seemed like an average day in the life of a musketeer, but his body wasn't used to it anymore. He still had the skill, but he'd lost some muscle over the years that he now needed to build back up.

"Hey."

Aramis' eyes popped open, and he blinked at Porthos, who was standing a few feet away. "Porthos," he said.

His friend nodded and came a little closer, grabbing a chair to sit on. "I guess we were too rough with you this mornin', eh." He said it with a grin.

Aramis could see that his friend was contrite, despite the façade. "I'm fine," he said, waving a hand, deliberately sending drops of water everywhere.

Porthos chuckled. "We shouldn't have worked you so hard though so soon, especially with that." He pointed at Aramis' forehead, where he sported a nasty bruise from his fight at the monastery.

Aramis still had a headache, though he wouldn't admit it. "There's no concussion, and like Athos said, they'll be hitting harder out there. I need to get back into musketeer form; not just for my own sake, but for everyone else's. I can't be a liability."

"You could never be a liability," Porthos said. "And you obviously haven't lost any skill…you just need to build up more muscle."

Aramis nodded. "Exactly."

Porthos still looked contrite. "I…well, I actually had expected you to block the blow that I aimed at you when we were sparring today. Athos had expected it too."

Aramis blinked. "Oh. Well…that's good to know."

"But not good that you didn't block," said Porthos, with a chuckle.

Aramis chuckled too. "I guess I really _do_ need more sparring."

Porthos pounded his right fist into his left hand. "Anytime you're ready!"

Aramis chuckled again. It was so good to be home! "I look forward to it, my friend."

THE END


	25. S3E3: Brothers in Arms

Missing scene for S3E3: Brothers in Arms

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Thinking about it later, Aramis realized that he shouldn't have been surprised at all when everything blew up in their faces…literally.

"Aramis!" he heard. "Hey, wake up."

Pain was something that Aramis was used to after years and years of soldiering, but when someone kept tapping your face when you already had a headache, it was easy to want to hit them back.

"Is he all right?"

"Just dazed, I think; he's lookin' right at me."

That was news to Aramis. Blinking his eyes showed him that he was, in fact, staring right into Porthos' face, with a worried Treville standing beside him.

"Aramis?" said Treville, before coughing a little from the dusty mess that had invaded the room.

The sound of his cough made Aramis' own lungs spasm, and he shifted to turn onto his side, grateful when Porthos assisted him as he choked on the nasty air. "What…" he gasped. "Happened?"

"There was a bomb, looks like," said Porthos.

Aramis tried to get his breathing under control and ignore his headache. He held up a hand and Porthos grasped it, pulling him up to sit. "Anyone hurt?" he asked, with a wince.

"I doubt _any_ of us are completely unscathed," said Treville. "But nothing serious."

A heap of noise erupted nearby before d'Artagnan was suddenly striding over. "We can get through the debris," he said, before looking down at Aramis. "Can you walk?"

Aramis nodded his aching head. "Yes."

D'Artagnan reached down and he and Porthos hauled Aramis up to stand, and they weaved their way to the bottom of the stairs. They all looked up towards the top, knowing what likely awaited them there.

"Here we go again," said Porthos.

Aramis couldn't stop himself from chuckling, and they started the climb.

THE END


	26. S3E4: The Queen's Diamonds

Tag to S3E4: The Queen's Diamonds

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Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan looked up from the outside table when they heard Aramis ride into the garrison. It was well past dark, and they watched as he handed his horse off to the stable boy before walking over to them.

"How was the wedding?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis sat down next to Porthos, which allowed them to see his face when it was illuminated by the candles on the table. He shook his head with a sigh. "It was the strangest one that I've ever been to."

"Why?" Porthos asked, pouring him a cup of wine.

"Pauline murdered someone right before it started," Aramis told them as he took it.

Everyone just stared at him as he drank.

"Are you serious?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded as he put his cup down.

"Who did she kill and why?" Athos asked.

Aramis told them the story, how someone had been blackmailing her because she'd been a prostitute. "I figured out who it was and told him to leave her alone, but he apparently confronted her and threatened to tell St. Pierre, her fiancé."

"So she killed him before he could tell?" Porthos asked.

Aramis nodded his head, staring into the wine.

Everyone fell quiet for a minute, sympathetic to their friend.

"So she's in prison, now?" d'Artagnan gently asked.

Aramis shook his head. "No."

"She escaped before she could be arrested?" Athos asked.

Aramis shook his head again. "No."

Everyone frowned with confusion.

"Wait a minute," said Porthos. "Don't tell me—"

"St. Pierre married her anyway," said Aramis, drinking his wine again.

Everyone was shocked.

"What?!" Porthos exclaimed.

Aramis held his cup out for more wine. "No one was more surprised than I was. He took her into the house and a half-hour later, came to find me and said that Pauline hadn't killed anyone; that the man had tried to rob him, and St. Pierre had been force to defend himself."

"So he's taking the blame for the man's death," d'Artagnan said.

"Yes," Aramis said. "He told me that he loved Pauline and didn't _care_ what she'd been before." He shook his head with a rueful chuckle. "Before all this happened, I'd told her to tell him, that it might not matter. St. Pierre even said that he understood why she'd kept the secret from him." He smiled. "She certainly chose the right man to marry."

Everyone nodded with amazement.

"Shocking," said d'Artagnan.

"Indeed," Athos agreed.

"You have no problem with this?" Porthos asked. "Knowin' what _really_ happened?"

Aramis sighed. "I don't want Pauline hanged."

No one could blame him for that.

Aramis yawned behind his hand. "I shall take myself to bed now…I've had a very eventful day. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," they all said back, watching him walk away.

"How can everyone involved just pretend that she didn't murder someone?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos was silent for a moment before saying, "No secret is greater than one that we _already_ know."

Porthos and d'Artagnan knew that he was speaking of the dauphin's true parentage, and realized that this was simply yet _another_ secret for them to bear.

THE END


	27. S3E5: To Play the King

Tag to S3E5: To Play the King

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"How's Aramis?"

"Resting," Porthos answered Athos as he entered the kitchen. "That was torture for 'im…I'm hoping there's some broth around or somethin' that I can bring 'im."

Athos nodded; sure that Aramis couldn't chew food at the moment, after having the bullet graze on his face stitched. "It's on the stove, I anticipated that."

"That's why you're the captain," Porthos joked, heading over to the pan. He ladled some into a cup and headed back out with Athos following.

Aramis lay on his bed, with his left hand holding a piece of cloth over the wound on his face. It'd required fifteen stitches, and the procedure had been horrendously painful. Sitting still through it had been impossible, so Porthos had to hold him in a vise-like grip so he wouldn't accidentally get his eye poked by the doctor's needle. He opened his eyes when his door opened as his two friends walked in.

Athos watched as Aramis lowered the cloth so he could sit up.

Aramis saw the reaction that Athos was trying to hide. "Yes, it feels as bad as it looks," he said, in a rare moment of honesty.

Athos didn't doubt it, especially when Aramis was actually admitting it, which he usually didn't do. "It looks fine," he said, with sympathy.

Aramis finished sitting himself up and looked at Athos with shock. "Fine? Fifteen stitches in my face? Whatever will the women of Paris think when they see it?"

Athos pulled up a chair and sat down, as Porthos handed Aramis the broth. They both knew very well that Aramis hadn't been with a woman since foolishly spending that night with the queen. Aramis was jesting in an attempt to make them think that he didn't care about the resulting scar, but they both knew their friend better than that.

"Women like scars," said Porthos, as they watched him drink. "As you and I both know very well."

Aramis nodded; he'd had the one on his forehead for years, and had been told more than once that it made him look 'dashing'. "But this is different," he said, lowering the cup with slightly-shaking hands. "It'll be much bigger."

The others knew that he was right. Aramis was very handsome, and it was a shame for his face to be marred as such.

"Just remember that you did it for the queen," Athos said. "That will make it easier to bear."

"Of course," said Aramis, closing his eyes for a moment as he realized how close she'd come to being killed. "I would risk _everything_ for her."

The others knew that very well.

Suddenly, Aramis gasped and put one hand over his wound and the other hand over his mouth.

"What?" Porthos asked, with alarm.

Aramis shook his head to tell them that he was all right, before slowly inhaling through his nose and removing his hand. "I had to yawn," he said.

Porthos grimaced. "Yeah, you shouldn't do _that_ for a while! I dunno how you're even talkin'!"

"Painfully," Aramis answered.

"We should let you sleep," said Athos, standing from his chair.

Aramis tiredly nodded. The agony of having his face stitched had taken a lot out of him. "Goodnight."

"Night," said Porthos.

"Sleep well," Athos told him.

Aramis watched as they left before he laid down and closed his eyes with a sigh. He knew it was a miracle that neither he nor the queen had been killed, and he thanked God that the bullet had done nothing but leave just another scar on his body.

THE END


	28. S3E6: Death of a Hero

Tag to S3E6: Death of a Hero

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When Aramis walked into his room at the garrison, he was shaking. He quickly removed his weapons, hat, and doublet, and fell to his knees beside his bed, folding his hands and closing his eyes. Images from the day flashed through his mind…King Louis knew that he'd slept with the queen, and that the dauphin was his son!

"Lord," he prayed, before shaking his head, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "Lord…you heard what the king said." He sighed and leaned his forehead against his hands, clasped on the mattress. "He decided to hang me…but then he changed his mind!" He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, towards Heaven. "He changed his mind! Why? Because I then defended his life against Grimaud's men?"

"Changed his mind about what?"

Aramis startled badly, his entire body jerking where he knelt.

Porthos' eyebrows shot up. "It looks like you just lost your status as The Musketeer who Never Flinches!" he commented, walking over.

Aramis hadn't even heard the door open. He said nothing, momentarily speechless again.

Porthos frowned with concern at his friend's uncharacteristic behavior. "What did the king change his mind about?"

Aramis sighed and rested his forehead against his hands again. He hadn't wanted the others to know.

"If you don't tell me," said Porthos. "I'll go get Athos and d'Artagnan and make you tell all _three_ of us."

Aramis sighed again. "He knows."

Porthos blinked. "Knows?"

"He knows that…that Rochefort was right." Aramis found it difficult to say the name of their former nemesis, even after all that time. "He knows that the queen and I slept together and that the dauphin is my son." He braced himself for his friend's reaction, and couldn't hold back a soft cry of surprise when his arm was suddenly seized in a painful grip.

"WHAT?!" Porthos roared.

"He confronted me," Aramis told him. "He obviously planned it."

Porthos squeezed his arm. "What did he _say_?" he growled.

Aramis tried to pull his arm away, without success. "He said that I was to be hanged…but then he changed his mind."

"What do you mean!" Porthos exclaimed, with fear in his voice.

"Afterwards, Grimaud attacked," Aramis explained. "I held them off, and when you arrived, I took the king to safety." He tried again to pull his arm away, which felt like it was in a vise. "We found Feron dead, and then the king told me that I was to have no contact with the queen or the dauphin." He couldn't repeat the actual words, as painful as they had been to hear.

"That doesn't mean he changed his mind!" Porthos exclaimed. "He probably means just from today until you hang!" He tightened his grip, if possible. "We have to get you away!" He yanked Aramis up off the floor and took a step towards the door.

"No!" Aramis exclaimed. "Let me finish! And give me back my arm!"

Porthos turned to look at him before reluctantly letting go.

Aramis reflexively grasped it with his other hand, trying to rub the pain away. "He said that he would ensure that after he's gone, I still would have no contact with them." He sighed. "I don't know what exactly he has in mind, but he's not going to hang me if I'll still be here after he's gone."

Porthos just stared, unable to believe what he was hearing.

Aramis sighed and walked the few steps back to his bed before sinking down on it. "I shouldn't be surprised," he said. "They had no other children after the dauphin…that alone must have made him suspicious. The _queen_ was never barren…it's obviously the _king_."

Porthos sat beside him. "What if he changes his mind again and decides to hang you after all?"

Aramis shook his head. "He's dying and he has the heir that he needed. Despite the anger that he feels, I think there's a little bit of relief about that. If not for me, he would have no heir to the throne of France."

Porthos shook his head. "Funny way of puttin' it."

"You know what I mean," Aramis said. "Besides, he had every chance to shoot me after I handed him a gun, but he didn't."

"You what?!"

"People were shooting at us!" said Aramis. "I had my duty to protect him whether he wanted to hang me or not, so I did. That's probably what changed his mind; I could've thrown him to Grimaud to save my own life, but I didn't."

Porthos sighed and they sat in silence for a moment, neither of them knowing that Athos was in the hall, standing in the open doorway.

Without a word, Athos rode to the palace and spoke to Treville, who had just been handed an order for the king's lawyers, to be opened after Louis' death. He told Treville what he'd heard, and without hesitation, Treville tossed the order into the fire.

THE END


	29. S2E7: Fool's Gold

Tag to S2E7: Fool's Gold

Note: Athos' last line doesn't reflect my own opinion, I could never do what Juliette tried! (You'll understand what I mean!)

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The four musketeers rode back towards Paris after leaving Eparcy. Aramis couldn't stop thinking about Juliette, and realized that he hadn't had the chance to tell the others about her true identity.

"Aramis?"

"What?" Aramis said, having not realized that someone had been speaking to him.

"You were miles away," said d'Artagnan.

"I was thinking," Aramis explained.

" _That's_ never good!" Porthos joked.

Aramis looked at Athos, who stared straight ahead. He looked a little pale, but that wasn't surprising after everything that he'd endured. "You all right, Athos?"

Athos glanced at him. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Of course."

"Good," said Aramis. "Because there's something that I need to tell you."

Everyone stopped their horses and looked at him.

"So help me," said Porthos. "If you and the queen—"

"No!" Aramis said. "Porthos, _really_?"

Porthos stopped.

Aramis shook his head. "Juliette is Grimaud's mother."

Everyone just stared. Athos, especially, seemed to have difficulty understanding. "Juliette?" he echoed.

Aramis nodded. "I accidentally came upon her when she was dressing, and saw whip marks across her back. She'd been cruelly used at a very young age, and Grimaud was the result."

"She attempted to drown him," said Athos. "But Theresa took and raised him."

Aramis nodded. "Yes."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "I wonder what kind of man Grimaud's _father_ was."

"Just as evil as him, if not more," said Aramis. "For what he did to Juliette."

"She tried to drown him," Athos repeated. He started to ride again, before commenting, "If only she had succeeded."

Everyone was silent; there was no fitting reply to that.

THE END


	30. S3E8: Prisoner of War

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Missing scene for S3E8: Prisoner of War

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Aramis' head was spinning as Athos walked over to unlock his shackles. Shouting had been the worse idea possible for a man with a concussion, but he hadn't been able to stop himself.

"There can be no peace as long as Grimaud lives," Athos said, taking hold of the shackles.

"No," Aramis said, feeling faint. "Not for you, my friend."

Athos gave no reply to that, knowing that he was completely right.

Aramis blinked a few times and swayed slightly as Athos got off one of the shackles, but the dizziness in his brain increased and his knees buckled.

Athos was taken by surprise and quickly grabbed Aramis by his elbows, pulling him against himself to prevent him from hitting the ground.

"Whoa!" Porthos exclaimed, rushing over and grabbing him from Athos.

"Is he wounded?!" d'Artagnan asked, hurrying to their side.

"We were too busy yelling at him to ask," said Athos, kneeling as Porthos laid their friend on the ground.

Porthos knew that Athos was scolding him, and he felt guilt overcome him as he opened Aramis' doublet.

They were relieved to find no blood anywhere on Aramis. Aside from the nasty bruise on his forehead, they found more bruises over his ribs. Before they had a chance to check if any were broken, their patient stirred.

"Keep still," d'Artagnan said, holding him down.

Aramis winced and opened his eyes, which rolled a little before he was able to focus. "What?" he asked.

"You passed out," said Athos.

Aramis blinked a few more times before trying to sit up. "I'm fine."

Porthos, who had remained guiltily silent, barked a laugh at that. "Fine? That's why you're lyin' on the ground?"

D'Artagnan helped Aramis sit up, who blinked repeatedly, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm fine," he repeated.

"Your ribs?" Athos asked.

"Not broken."

"Your _head_ is," said Porthos.

Aramis gave him a puzzled look.

"You have a concussion," Porthos explained. "I can tell from here." He gestured towards Aramis' eyes, communicating that his pupils were uneven.

Aramis already knew that he was concussed. "It's not bad. Besides, _you_ likely have the same problem."

Porthos wiped his face on his sleeve, seeing the blood that was left behind. "What, that? Nah, my head is harder than yours."

Aramis smiled slightly, but it turned into a wince. His right ear was ringing with a stabbing pain from the sound of Grimaud's gun going off right beside it, but he wasn't going to volunteer anything that his friends didn't know about. "Get me up."

Athos and Porthos grabbed him under his arms and pulled, each one nearly dropping him when Aramis gave an unexpected cry of pain.

"I knew it!" said Porthos, as they set him down again. "Where's the wound that you're hidin'?"

Aramis gasped from the pain in his shoulders. "No…wound."

"Then what is it?!"d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis didn't answer, still trying to catch his breath.

Athos figured it out. "How long were you hanging from your arms?" he suddenly asked.

"Since I…arrived," Aramis answered.

Everyone was speechless for a moment.

"Do you mean that _literally_?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis sighed, nodding his aching head. "How long has it been?"

"You left the garrison the night before last," said Athos. "Assuming that you've been hanging since dawn yesterday, it's been nearly a day and a half."

Aramis sighed again, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't keep his eyes open. "That explains much."

Porthos reached over to help him up again…more carefully this time. "Let's just get outta here and go home!"

Aramis tiredly nodded. "I couldn't have said it better."

THE END


	31. S3E9: The Prize

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Tag for S3E9: The Prize

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Aramis, Athos, and d'Artagnan sat around Treville's body, unable to believe that he was actually dead.

"No," Aramis suddenly said. "We can't let him die!" He shifted Treville off his lap and laid him flat on the ground before checking his pulse, even though he knew that he wouldn't find one. "Captain," he said, even though that hadn't been his title for years. "Captain!"

There was no pulse, and Treville wasn't breathing.

Aramis shook him in desperation, before starting to open his doublet to check the gunshot wounds. He was surprised when a pair of hands grabbed his wrists.

"Aramis," Athos said. "He's dead."

Aramis knew that he was, but he said anyway, "I have to save him!"

"You can't," Athos replied.

"But I have to!" Aramis exclaimed, trying to pull his wrists back. "That's what I _do_!"

"It's too late!" d'Artagnan told him.

Aramis kept trying to pull his arms away, giving a violent tug that didn't work. " _Athos_!" he shouted.

"Aramis!" Athos exclaimed back, squeezing his wrists nearly hard enough to break them. "Stop! He's _gone_!"

Aramis stilled, looking at Athos with shock, his chest heaving. "But…" He trailed off, unable to say anything else.

"I know," Athos said, his voice unsteady. "I know."

Arms circled Aramis from behind, and he felt d'Artagnan's forehead thump against the back of his right shoulder. Using his left hand—which was suddenly free from Athos' grip—Aramis grasped d'Artagnan's where they met across his own stomach.

Aramis blinked and shifted his gaze back to the body of Minister Treville, lying dead on the ground. Athos' words rang inside his head, _he's gone,_ and tears started to slide down his face.

D'Artagnan reached over to include Athos in the hug, and together, they mourned the man who they'd not only respected as their captain, but who they'd loved as a father.

THE END


	32. S3E10: We are the Garrison

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Missing scene for S3E10: We are the Garrison

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Aramis sat thinking after his conversation with Athos. Could he really do it? Could he give up his life as a musketeer and go live in the palace instead, as France's First Minister?

 _Yes!_ his mind inwardly screamed, even as the rational part of him said _no._

Aramis closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand across his face. The thought of living with the woman that he loved and the son that he was forced to watch from a distance…he would be living his fondest dream. Should he do it? One reason for his hesitation was the fact that the king had told him that he would ensure that Aramis had no contact with the dauphin after he died. He knew that any moment, guards could be coming for him. What had the king ordered? His death? His life-long imprisonment?

He couldn't do it, because the king made sure that it was impossible.

With another sigh, Aramis rose to his feet and headed to his room. He walked over to sit on his bed, but stopped when he saw a piece of rolled-up parchment lying on his pillow. Reaching down to pick it up, he unrolled it as he sat down.

 _Aramis…if you're reading this, then it means that I've died._

Tears filled Aramis' eyes when he realized that it was from Treville. With a soft gasp of surprise, he continued to read.

 _First, I'd like to apologize for dying…I'm sure it was likely violent and unexpected, but I do hope that it was in service to France._

"It was," Aramis whispered.

 _Second, I desperately hope that you aren't blaming yourself. I'm sure that if it was possible, you did everything you could to help keep me alive. You are the only person who I trusted to medically treat me besides a doctor, but God alone decides when a person's time has come; if you tried to save my life without success, it was not a failure on your part, it was simply the Will of God that I leave this earth._

Tears slipped down Aramis' face and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds before continuing.

 _I write this now on the day that King Louis died, as chaos has already ensued and I don't know if I'll be killed without having the chance to speak with you on some things. I've often thought about who my successor should be as Minister of France. You are my first and only choice, for many reasons._

Aramis was shocked at that.

 _Musketeers_ _can_ _play at politics, and they can succeed in it. I have, and hopefully_ _you_ _will. I also left Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan a letter, and expressed my wish that you take the position, that way, you can't hide my request from them!_

Aramis smiled slightly.

 _I left a letter for the queen stating the same, but hers is to be delivered the day after yours. I wanted you to hear it from me first so you won't be too shocked when she asks you._

Aramis chuckled…Treville couldn't have known that she'd already asked Athos and he'd already told the queen to give him the position instead.

 _Formal things aside, I want you to know that I always looked at you as the son that I never had. From the day that you walked into the garrison—while it was still being built!—and became my first musketeer, you were always there when you were needed; ready to do whatever it took, no matter what it was. I always knew that I could depend on you, and when Porthos joined and then Athos, the three of you became unbeatable. There will never be a team like the three of you and d'Artagnan; I'm sure that you four will make history._

Aramis didn't doubt it.

 _When that terrible business happened with Rochefort, I remember that you were slightly surprised at the risks that the rest of us took in order to save you; yes, we all could've been executed along with you, but that's the definition of the musketeer motto: all for one. You've willingly risked your life for all of us countless times; there could never be hesitation in any of us to do the same for you…which brings me to my next subject._

 _The king recently gave me a written order for his lawyers, to be opened after his death. Minutes later, Athos informed me of what the king said to you about your fate after he died.* The order went straight into the fire, and I gave them a blank scroll instead so that Louis would never know._

Aramis gasped again. How did Athos find out?

 _I told Athos to tell you that it was gone, that you shouldn't have to worry, but he argued that you shouldn't know about it so you would stay away from the queen and dauphin while Louis still lived, for your own sake. I was forced to agree, but I can't let you live with the king's threat over your head. You are free to take the position of First Minister._

Aramis was stunned. Louis hadn't succeeded!

 _Please do it, Aramis; with Louis gone, there is nothing to stop you from having your son and his mother in your life. You cannot tell the dauphin that you are his father—for obvious reasons—but as First Minister, you can be a father figure to him anyway._

Aramis looked away from the letter for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face before taking a deep breath. Nothing could stop him now…nothing. He really could do it if he wanted to…and part of him really, _really_ wanted to.

Aramis turned back to the letter.

 _Stop thinking so much, Aramis, and do this. You're forgetting how well I know you! Do it; that's an order from your captain!_

Aramis chuckled.

 _All joking aside, you deserve this, Aramis. Do it for the queen, do it for your son, do it for yourself…and do it for_ _me_ _. I'll leave this earth knowing that France is in good hands, with someone who the queen can completely trust._

 _I could write to you all night, but I'm running out of ink. Know always that even though I'm gone, I'm still with you. Being your captain was an honor and a privilege, and I couldn't be prouder of the man that you've become._

 _All for one, and one for all._

 _Forever yours,_

 _Treville_

Aramis lowered the letter to his lap and closed his eyes as more tears slipped down his face. The hole in his heart that formed when Treville died ached terribly, but at the same time, his letter had given Aramis hope.

Reopening his eyes, Aramis looked up at the ceiling as if he could see Treville in heaven. "Thank you," he said. "I know what to do."

THE END

* See chapter 28 of this collection, the tag to S3E6.


	33. What Happened After S3?

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What Happened After S3?

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Aramis watched the dauphin play outside in the palace gardens, and smiled happily at the sight. He couldn't believe that he was actually there, as the Minister of France. He finally had the right to be near his son…but he was no longer an active musketeer.

Aramis thought of his friends. Porthos had been sent back to the war front…Athos had left with Sylvie, his return date unknown…only d'Artagnan, as the new musketeer captain, was still nearby.

His smile faded and he turned away, missing them terribly. What he saw though, ignited a spark in his heart: Queen Anne was watching him.

Slowly, she walked closer and placed a hand on his chest, before raising her lips to his own.

Aramis kissed her…and kissed her…

…and then he woke up.

With a startled jump, Aramis opened his eyes and found himself lying in the garrison infirmary.

"Hey, take it easy," said Porthos.

Aramis blinked, very confused. "What am I doing _here_?" he asked, wondering why he wasn't in the palace. "And when did _you_ get back?"

Porthos frowned. "Get back? What are you talking about? You don't remember what happened? You were wounded when we took down Rochefort."

Aramis gasped. "When we _what_?!"

Porthos made a face. "Milady came to Athos with information of Rochefort bein' a Spanish spy. The girl who was impersonatin' Princess Louise told her so…you remember her, right? She had the crossbow and was killin' people.* It turned out to be true and Rochefort was hanged."

Aramis' mind reeled. So everything that had happened…the king being poisoned and the queen accused of the deed…then his own arrest when Rochefort somehow found out that he and the queen had slept together and created the dauphin…it had all been a dream? He'd never had to plead to God for her life in that prison, and he'd never gone to the monastery for four lonely years?!

"Whoa, hey Aramis!"

His arms were suddenly grabbed, and he looked into Porthos' worried face.

"Stay with me!" Porthos said, alarmed at the sight of his friend suddenly blanching pure white.

Aramis found that he was breathing too fast, as he tried to make sense of everything. He suddenly realized that his left forearm was really hurting. He looked at it to see that it was heavily bandaged.

"You were shot," said Porthos. "The bullet went in and out and missed the bone, but you developed an infection a few days later and have been out cold for two days."

Aramis took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He couldn't believe that none of it had been real. In two days, he had dreamed-up five years? Grimaud didn't exist? The king didn't die? "Treville!" he suddenly exclaimed, reopening his eyes.

"What about him?" said Porthos. "He's on his way back from the palace."

Tears of relief filled Aramis' eyes and he closed them again.

"Aramis, you're scarin' me!" said Porthos. "What's wrong?"

Aramis reopened his eyes and smiled. "Just a bad dream. Nothing is wrong, my friend…nothing at all."

THE END

* S2E7, 'A Marriage of Inconvenience'


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